The One for Me
by TASHAx
Summary: Fragments of Ginevra and Draco's life and how they cope in the aftermath of the War. He's always loved her, will she grow to feel the same way?
1. One

**The One for Me**

_I've been addicted to you_

For too long he'd watched her. For too long he'd noticed that her hair resembled red wine illuminated by firelight, that her dusting of freckles was more liberally distributed on the right cheekbone, that her burnt amber eyes had lost their sparkle. For too long had he watched her, a passive and distant ghost trailing her. He knew she loathed him. He was everything she hated, everything she was fighting so hard against; a Malfoy, a Slytherin, a Death Eater, a coward.

Her small frame had diminished further since returning after Christmas, although that was hardly surprising. Everyone looked as if they'd recently stopped eating – their eyes too big for their faces, the fear within them even more prominent than before. Shaking his head he pulled himself out of his reverie, and turned his attention to the bowl of porridge in front of him. It looked lumpy and unappealing. He suspected the house elves knew of the tale of Dumbledore's death and knowing it had been at the previous Head of Slytherin's hand they were punishing the entire house with near starvation. However, Draco forced himself to eat it anyway. Bit by bit he was going to pay for his actions, even if there was no big gesture he could make that would show the world he was sorry.

He didn't need the approval of others or their forgiveness; he doubted he'd ever be granted it. But he could make himself suffer, little by little, in private. Undergo little punishments everyday for the foolishness of his childhood mistakes, for failing his family and for being his father's son.

"Really, Draco" hissed Pansy, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes, "how can you stand to eat that tripe! I'm going to write to mother, she'll sort this out...look at that – even Hufflepuffs have bacon! Bacon! They all get fed properly while we starve..."

Draco looked at her, surveying her round face, "Parkinson, if anyone could stand to starve for a week or two it's you - the Christmas holidays were not kind to your hips."

"Bastard." She stood, promptly emptied the contents of her bowl onto his lap and haughtily stalked out of the room.

"You really are quite the charmer," mused Blaise, but Draco wasn't listening for he'd just heard a noise he hadn't been privy to in such a long time. He looked up and saw that Ginny Weasley was sat facing him. She was currently doubled over in hysterical laughter. Tears brimmed in her eyes, two pinks dots decorated her cheeks, and her whole body shook with peals of laughter.

He didn't care that most of the hall had caught onto the youngest Weasley's reason for displaying such mirth and had begun laughing too. He'd cover himself head to toe in the troll-bogey-like porridge just to keep her laughing.

"Nice one, Malfoy!" jeered Longbottom. The sap seemed to have finally grown a backbone. He sneered back at the Gryffindor and was about to stand up, keeping the gelatinous substance on him, so he could give her a better view of the damage Pansy had done to his robes. He wanted to make her laugh more; for longer. But Blaise performed a quick _scourgify_ and his robes were pristine once more. He glared at his friend.

"_You're welcome_, Malfoy. Merlin, you're in one today, aren't you?"

Cloak flapping in a Snape-esque manner, Draco strode from the Great Hall, savouring her laughter in his mind. Too long, too long, now.

_Ox_

It was cold, and the air was damp. February seemed to want to cling to winter for as long as possible. He was stood in the grounds watching her, as usual. She'd been out here for half an hour now, staring out at the lake, and undoubtbly thinking of _Saint Potter_. _Definitely_ thinking of him, he mentally amended as he saw tears leaking down her cheek.

It frustrated him beyond anything he'd ever known; she should not be sad for him, he should not have left her. As much as Draco had been jealous of their relationship, he'd loved watching her happiness grow with the speccy git. Something suddenly clicked into place. He realised why he should dare to approach her, why he should try and be with her. He would make her happy; do anything to make her happy, even if it meant sacrificing himself. In fact, he was going to tell her right now. Yes.

"Wea-" his shout died before the first syllable was out of his lips. Alecto Carrow had materialised beside her, and there seemed to be a heated exchanged. Before he knew what was happening Ginny had been snatched by the arm and was disappearing before his very eyes. Draco raced up to the corridor he knew Alecto's office was on, and he waited outside. He could hear the taunts within, and inbetween the barbs about the redhead's lineage he could hear c_rucio, crucio, crucio._ She didn't scream once. So brave; so resilient. Potter had been a fool to try and place a cushioning charm around her.

_Crucio, crucio, crucio, crucio, crucio._

"Out the way, ferret" ordered the Irish fool, Finnegan. Longbottom and Brown were right behind him.

"You heard him, scum, push off!"

"Last thing, Gin needs is your ugly mug when she escapes there."

Coming to his senses slightly, though not quite able to unfurl his tightly balled fist, he glared at the trio. They were a pale imitation of Potter, Mudblood and the Weasel King. "Just wanted to see if the little bint'd squeal...I do love a damsel in distress."

"I'm no bloody damsel, _Malfoy_, so piss off," grunted Ginny as she emerged for the office.

She was limping slightly and her forehead was covered in sweat. His facade slipped a little. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would be alright, and he wanted to beat Alecto to pulp Muggle style. But instead he just watched. His stare was intense and burning and for a few seconds Ginny felt consumed by his grey gaze. He broke their eye contact, however, and hurtled down the corridor quicker than she'd ever seen him move without the aid of a broomstick.

"Come on, Gin, Parvati's got some nerve calming solution..."

The redhead allowed herself to be led away by her friends, sparing a glance back down the now deserted corridor. She was searching for an answer to the silent barrage Malfoy had thrown at her via his eyes. Windows to the soul, it was always said, and before tonight she'd have sworn Malfoy's must have been blank. How wrong and misguided of her. There was hurt, pain, ridicule...and so much more swimming in there. Or maybe, she rationalized, she just wanted to hope everyone could be redeemable. So that perhaps, even if the dark prevailed, one day someone would repent and put the world right again. Or could it have been that he was merely reflecting what was in her eyes? In order to do that though, he'd need to be able to feel, to _empathise_ and she couldn't see that being a possibility at all.

_Ox_

_Idiot!_

He cursed himself. And her.

Slumped against the wall in his Head Boy chambers his breath was coming out in ragged bursts. He looked down at his hands; his nails had cut into his skin where he'd tightened his grip so that he hadn't burst open the office door and given the Carrow bitch the retribution she deserved. To pick on a younger, vulnerable girl; it was sickening. Being a pureblood used to be something to be proud of; strong, powerful, full of class and breeding. Now it was a desperately poor show for those whose ancestry was purest. When the Weasley clan was the only purebred family to be proud of, you knew Satan must be getting awfully chilly down there. Sure, he possibly loved Ginny, but he wasn't about to forsake all his values because of that. Old blood still counted for something, or at least, he hoped it did.

_He – he loved Ginny. He did. He loved her._

_Ox_

Whilst standing behind the tapestry Draco could gather his thoughts. His forearm was burning; it had not been a good conversation with his father. The Dark Lord was leaning even more heavily on Draco's family now since so many debacles had happened. He felt the pressure mounting again, that desperation to save his parents. His dark musings were cut short when he heard a panicked little squeak and footsteps thundering down the hallway.

"_Filthy blood traitor vermin!_" The unmistakable cry of a severely pissed off Carrow signalled the witch was not too far behind her prey. Peeking out the side of the tapestry, not wanting to get caught in this fray, he saw a mass of ruby tresses flailing their way towards him. Without thinking he shot out an arm and scooped her into his grasp. She began to protest.

"Shut up and come with me."

He couldn't have stood in that close proximity with her for too long; the scent of jasmine on her hair was all too dizzying. He yanked her through the secret entrance and they emerged into another corridor. Both of them hurtled into the nearest empty room. It was the History of Magic classroom, and it was fortunately deserted.

"What in the name of Salazar's toenails did you do this time, Weasley?"

"Well I wanted to have a bit of reven– wait, I'm sorry, Malfoy, did you just mention Salazar Slytherin's toenails? And for that matter _why_ do you care? And why have you bought me here? Did you want to get a bit of punishment in before handing me over to that _bitch _who is probably your favourite teacher now?"

He blinked a few times before looking away and heading toward the door. Before he exited, however, he turned to face the redhead.

"You insult me, Ginevra Weasley, in every possible way." His voice was cold and empty.

She should let him stomp off. Let him exit the room with his mysterious parting words, leaving his out of character actions unexplained and hopefully let him take his intense gazes with him. She could feel his eyes on her all the time and it terrified her. It was like having Tom looming over her shoulder again.

"Malfoy. Stop. Plea –_please stop!_" He halted his progression through the door. "I didn't mean to offend you. But, you can hardly blame me, can you? You taunt all my friends, you _stare_ at me all the time and you're a – well, you're a Death Eater! And you seem to expect some sort of level of trust, but that just won't cut it, I'm sorry but it _won't!_"

"I don't agree with the Carrows' methods, Weasley. And just so you know, the mark burned on my arm makes me feel like retching every time I see it." He turned to face her, "and I think I've explained more than enough of myself away to _you._"

Before Ginny knew what was happening she was alone in the classroom, sincerely hoping she could make it back to Gryffindor tower before Alecto Carrow found her.

**Ramble:**

This fic is inspired by James Blunt's lyrics. Sappy, I know.

It's basically going to be fragments of Ginny and Draco before/after the war. It'll be five or six chapters long. I wrote this to get myself back into writing after a couple of years absence. It was beta'd by Sierra.

Please, review.

Tash.


	2. Two

**The One for Me**

_I am here for you if you'd only care.  
_

The battle of Hogwarts had been the hardest few of hours of so many people's lives. No one emerged unchanged that evening, for Ginny something had snapped forever: So much loss, so much pain. Fred had died, Tonks and Lupin too, Harry also had come scarily close to meeting his maker. It had been precisely twenty-four nights since Voldemort had been defeated and still she felt everyone in the house tossing and turning in their sleep, wands still grasped in their hands even in slumber. In the waking hours people still twitched at loud noises, still turned up the wireless when it came to announcing the news. No one could quite become accustomed to freedom, to relief. She suspected that the true grieving processes hadn't even begun; the entire Wizarding world appeared to be suffering from mass shock.

The sun had finally risen; Ginevra Weasley had been awake for the past couple of hours, meditating to the night time sounds of her family home. She could hear the breath of her house and all its occupants. The Burrow was particularly crowded at that point as both Bill and Fleur had been staying here, wanting to be close to everyone as opposed to back at Shell Cottage. Harry and Hermione were also sleeping and living there for the time being. Hermione still waiting for her parent's location in Australia so she would be able to find and disenchant them, then they would be able to recall their daughter. Harry because he no longer needed his aunt and uncle's protection and he doubted they wanted him back in their home anymore than he wished to return to Privet Drive. He didn't think he could live in such tame, muggle suburbia ever again, he didn't want to hide his magic or who he was any longer. He had, had enough of living in secret. The birds that were nesting beneath her window started the dawn the chorus and soon the outside world seemed to hum with life. The redhead knew sleep was now impossibility, and being careful not to rouse Hermione who was sleeping opposite her on a little camp bed, she pushed off her duvet and swung her legs out of her bed. The floor was cold but she didn't mind, she preferred being barefoot as opposed to wearing slippers around the house.

As quietly as the old creaky stairs would allow she snuck through the house, making her way towards her morning coffee. The kitchen had only nets up at the windows, no curtains, and it was facing east so the room was full of bright sunlight. It made her feel hopeful. Filling the old kettle with water, she took some matches and lit the hob and placed the kettle on the flames. Shucking on her coat she opened the back door and smiled as the faint warmth fell on her face; the garden smelt fresh and new and wonderful. She thought that today she might visit Diagon Alley, she needed new books and she wanted to see what the world outside of her house and land looked like. She wanted to see people. A whistling noise alerted her to the readiness of her water, scurrying inside so that the kettle (which was charmed to just get louder and louder the longer you left it on the heat) didn't disturb the entire household. A scoop of instant coffee granules in her big purple mug, a quick pour of boiling water and a little stir and she was sat on the stoop of her back door enjoying the peace and savouring the caffeine. She didn't like tea, at all. It was weird because everyone in her family, in fact nearly everyone she knew, loved tea. Ginny preferred the bitter tang of strong black coffee, especially in the mornings.

Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes, filthy habit, she knew but it was part of her morning routine. Coffee, cigarette, stoop. It felt nice to be able to have a routine again, it felt _safe_ again. Lighting up she felt the tendrils of smoke fill her and her body responded as it always did with that strange mixture of relaxation and rejection. She was ten minutes into her thoughts when she suddenly realised that today was the first day in a long time that she'd left her wand in her bedroom. It was a peculiar feeling; it wasn't as though she felt unsafe – there were wards and the family wand was kept in the kitchen, but something told her this was progress. This was definitely a step in the right direction. She was sick of living in fear; there was no need any more, not really.

She stubbed out the cigarette butt into the plant pot beside her and turned just in time to see George sleepily entering the kitchen. He saw his sister hunched over in the doorway and smiled his sad little smile. He hadn't been able to really smile since the battle, since the loss of Fred. Ginny wondered if many would ever really laugh or smile again. She hoped so. For people like Fred, she hoped so. Fred had loved to laugh and he had loved to bring joy to everyone who knew him, just as Tonks had, just as Remus had loved to teach and help and see progress in others. Ginny hoped people learnt to feel again and not to stagnate.

"Hey, Gin." He'd made himself a cup of tea and was eating some of last night's leftovers for breakfast. At least he was eating again.

"Morning, George. Sleep okay?"

"I sleep better each night, it's the waking up I hate. I hate that he isn't in the bed opposite me. Makes me hate Harry for being there in his space sometimes – if you know what I mean?"

She nodded. She understood.

0x

"Pass the salt, please, Draco."

The blonde obeyed his mother, neither actually making eye contact. Breakfasts in the Malfoy mansion had always been such a subdued affair, even now while his father sat awaiting trial in an Azkaban cell he and his mother buttered toast and nibbled fruit platters as though he were on a business trip. Narcissa's actions of saving Harry Potter and lying about his death had given her an instant pardon, Lucius would probably not be as fortunate. His hands were too blackened with the evil of the Dark Lord. Being sat at the dining table reminded Draco of the hideous meetings Voldemort had held here when he and his family had been prisoners in their own home. It made him shudder to think of it. He'd been such an idiot to ever think that was something he wanted to be a part of. If only Harry Potter had shaken his hand all those years ago, maybe he would have influenced things differently in the youngest Malfoy's life.

It wouldn't be easy, freeing the Malfoy name again, starting afresh. Everyone hated the families of known Death Eaters, not that Draco blamed anyone for this. His own Dark Mark made him physically recoil, if he could have separated himself from the ugly black mark he would have done. But he'd been sixteen when the mark had been branded upon him: So young, so naive and so very afraid.

"Excuse me, mother, I had best be getting into town. I need to survey the company, see what damages we've sustained."

The glacial woman gave a curt little nod and then returned to pushing her food around her plate. He hadn't seen his mother smile since his father had been taken away. She'd rejoiced at them all surviving the battle but now reality and the ramifications of their parts played in the war were beginning to daunt and scare her. Draco too was terrified; he had no idea how to go about running the family businesses. What did he know of investments and stock markets? Of publishing houses and art galleries? The Malfoy family had their numerous fingers in various pies and, by Merlin; this was going to be no easy task.

Thirty minutes later he was showered, dressed and had apparated into the main Malfoy Inc. building. It was an expensive and felt very modern and impersonal. The walls were cream and the carpets a deep navy with dark wood skirting, paintings hung on the walls of landscapes from around the world. It was incredibly quiet, Draco was certain no one would be there, everyone not knowing whether they had a job now Malfoy senior was under investigation and many employees, he assumed, would not want to work for his family anymore. Once again, he couldn't blame anyone. Lucius had made this bed and now Draco would have to find a comfortable position within which he was able to lie within it.

Entering his father's office, Draco took the seat at the large mahogany desk and rubbed his face hard; he was already feeling the magnitude of what lay ahead. Sighing deeply the blonde eighteen year old took a long piece of parchment out of his desk and began to write a letter to the family lawyers. He'd need to know what the next steps were. He'd need to hire a new publicist, create a new image. He'd also need to hire or rehire employees. Aiming his wand at the coffee pot on the cabinet beside him he watched it fill with strong black coffee, if his instincts were correct he'd require copious amounts of caffeine before he'd gotten anywhere close to sorting out the mess his father had left behind.

It took only an hour for a couple of lawyers to join him in the office, both of whom looked haggard and grey but seemed slightly mollified that they were dealing with the Draco and not his father.

"So, you're telling me my father stopped coming into work long before the Dark Lord took over our home?"

The two men nodded grimly. "Yes, Draco, a lot of his employees went into hiding or quit in protest. They all knew why Lucius no longer came to work; they knew the brush with which the company was tarnished."

"That changes now. Whether my father remains in jail or not, he'll have to see that this company will not survive with him at the helm, even if he still runs it I need to be the public face of everything."

The eldest of the two rubbed his stubbly cheek and nodded slowly, "the rehabilitated youth will be a far more successful marketing tool than the convict felon. It wasn't as if he were caught doing a little experimental cross breeding, he was a Death Eater."

Draco smiled grimly, "yes, yes he was. Now, I need a new public relations manager and I need a PA. Then we can start repairing this company."

"It won't be easy, Draco, the size of Malfoy Inc is...unfathomable, at times."

"One crack at a time, gentlemen, we'll fill them all. We have to."

0x

Dressed in a lacy sundress which fell a few inches above her knees and brown leather sandals Ginny, alongside George, stepped into the fireplace, threw a handful of glittery powder around themselves and as the flames licked around their legs announced "Diagon Alley!" as clearly as they could. In a matter of seconds they were stepping out into the Leaky Cauldron and brushing dust off of themselves. Surprisingly, the pub was full of people all eating and chattering and drinking. The air seemed to be lighter and the sun appeared to be making everyone feel a little more jubilant.

People everywhere stopped their activity though as they noticed Ginny and her brother, their flaming red hair making them recognisable to the masses. So many articles had been written about that night, the Weasleys had all been mentioned individually for their bravery and fierce fighting. So much respect had been won for all of those who'd defended Hogwarts and taken down His followers. Fred too had received a large epitaph in the Prophet, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had been so very prominent in London's magical community and the twins were prolific in their own right. It was the first time either of the two siblings had ventured into central London since long before the battle and the reaction of the crowd was somewhat unnerving.

A small witch whose eyes and smile seemed too large for her elderly face was the first to say something to the two redheads as they uncomfortably edged their way towards the pubs courtyard. "Well done, you two...well done." This was followed by a round of chorusing 'thank you's and condolences.

"Fuck." Breathed George as they made their way through the archway into Diagon Alley.

"That was..._madness._"

"Now, I understand what Harry's been dealing with."

"Mmm, poor Harry," agreed Ginny.

The two siblings wound a path through the crowded street. It was wonderful to see all the various shopkeepers charming their windows back in place, sweeping the debris of numerous Death Eater attacks out of their shops and beginning to start life again. It was as if everyone had thought enough grieving had occurred, enough shock had been endured; it was time for the Wizarding world to show how strong they could be. The new Minister for Magic would be announced any day now, Death Eaters and suspected Dark peoples would be tried and people would start to live again.

"Will you open shop again?"

"I'm really not sure, Gin. I don't think I'm enough without him..."

Tears began to form in her eyes. "Of course you're enough and we'll all help you. I'll come and work with you for a while, I promise." She knew she'd have to return to Hogwarts for her final year, she needed her NEWTs if she were to become a Healer but there was still six weeks until the first of September and she wanted to see her brother surviving, wanted to see him achieving everything Fred would have wanted for him.

They reached the once vibrant and lively shop window and stood outside it for a moment, surveying the damage that had been incurred. It wasn't _awful_. The windows needed repairing, a little fresh paint and some cleaning spells would definitely need to be worked on the inside of the shop but...it was manageable.

0x

Walking through Diagon Alley Draco felt like a leper. People sneered at him, or glared, some even shouted obscenities. Others simply looked at him with sympathy, as if he were some tragic survivor. He supposed he was, but he certainly didn't expect or even want sympathy. He was on his way to Gringotts to have a meeting with the manager of Malfoy accounts when his brain suddenly forgot how to tell his feet to move. She just stood there; blissfully unaware of his presence, her beautiful illuminated in the sunshine; her white dress and pale skin making her look pure and innocent. She was standing next to one of her brothers – one of the twins, if he remembered correctly. He'd heard the other of the duo had been killed in the final battle. He was sorry for that. Considering the Dark Lord prized the pure bloods he'd certainly wasted a lot during the war.

His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and all the maturity he'd felt he'd gained sat in his father's chair seemed to melt away and he felt young and vulnerable once more. His attraction to her, his love, the screams of her pain during her detentions and the terse conversation in the privacy of an abandoned classroom between them both felt like a lifetime ago. She was still perfect. She turned then, saw him him staring.

"What, Malfoy?" She sneered.

Shaking his head he carried on walking, he didn't have the room in his life to begin to explain himself to her, no matter how delicious she looked.

0x

Watching Malfoy walk away Ginny shook the memory of him from her head. She'd never understand his behaviour. She'd never understand _him_ and truthfully she was okay with that.

"Come on, George, you and Fred worked too hard to give up now. He wouldn't allow you to, and neither will I."

Pulling her wand out of her bag she muttered _"reparo_" and the shards of glass flew into the window frame and her brother turned to her and smiled, a little less pain evident in his eyes. They were going to be _just fine._


	3. Three

**The One for Me**

_And as you move on, remember me_

It was the thirty-first of august and the sun was blazing hot. It had been the hottest summer that anyone could remember having in recent years; even the weather was celebrating Voldemort's demise. Ginevra Weasley was sat on the terrace of the Green Galleon, a new coffee shop that had recently opened in Diagon Alley. It was her lunch break and she'd thought she'd take full advantage of the heat and her last day of freedom before returning to Hogwarts the next day. Taking a slurp of her iced pumpkin juice she thought of the changes that had happened in the past few weeks. Professor McGonagal was now headmistress of Hogwarts and hordes of students were eagerly awaiting the return of normalcy to their school. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed Minister for Magic, his first official Ministry ball was to be held that night. Ginny and the rest of the Weasley clan had been invited as official guests of the minister. Many of the Death Eaters had been sentenced to lifetimes in Azkaban and other people found guilty of freely affiliating with the Dark Lord had been sentenced with less severe jail time. Lucius, despite his pleas that in the end he was only a prisoner of Voldemort, had been given forty years in Azkaban with no hope of appeal. Draco Malfoy, however, had been featured in the Prophet for all positive reasons. Malfoy Inc. appeared to be blossoming under the eighteen year old and his publicist Mallory St. James, an extremely charismatic witch with bobbed iron grey hair and intuitive, sparkling eyes. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had been back in business for the past three weeks, all ready to supply the Hogwarts students for the autumn term. She knew it was hard for George to be back living above the shop alone but he seemed to be coping and she was proud of him. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all decided to join Ginny in seventh year and return to their schooling – she suspected this was Hermione's influence more than anything else – but Harry had already voiced his concerns that he wouldn't be able to settle back into such a normal routine now so much had changed and he'd gone through such a magnitude of events since he last donned a Gryffindor tie. He'd been offered place within the Auror training program already but he wanted to do things properly, he certainly didn't know it all yet and he wanted to prove to himself he could get the NEWTs required for him to begin the training.

Bill and Fleur had moved back to Shell Cottage and she was now three weeks pregnant. Charlie had gone back to Romania and Percy was newly appointed junior editor at the Prophet; politics, he said, had gotten him too dirty, he wanted to make sure the right message now got out there to the masses. Arthur Weasley had been made head of Magical Law Enforcement and Molly Weasley could finally stop watching the family clock...most of the time, anyway. Her world felt so very new and yet welcomingly familiar too.

Popping the last piece of her sandwich in her mouth the redhead glanced at her wristwatch, she had five minutes left before she had to return to her brother's insanely busy shop. It had been chocked full of eager, clamouring customers all day. She found it difficult to believe that on such a beautiful day anyone would want to force themselves into such a crowded space unless they were – like she and Ron – being paid to do so. Draining the last of her drink, she stood and stretched, enjoying the sensation after being sat for a while and began the two minute journey back to work.

"Hey, Gin!" It was Harry, Hermione and Neville. All three appeared to be doing school supply shopping judging by their bulging Flourish and Blotts bags.

"Hi, guys, you waiting for Ron to start his lunch?"

"_Yes_ they are, oh sister of mine, so hurry up and get back behind this flipping counter!" hollered the aforementioned brother. She rolled her chocolate coloured eyes and the other three laughed, waving her goodbye she ducked beneath the counter and popped up next to her brother. Pinning her lime green name badge to her bright purple Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shirt she was ready to begin her last four hours on shift.

"Go on then, Ronald" she smiled, "go socialize!" He'd already scarpered before she even gotten the last syllable out of her mouth. "Brothers!"

0x

Narcissa Malfoy stared at her reflection. She needed to look perfect. Lucius had been convict only two weeks ago and she hadn't ventured into society since. She knew it would be difficult, a new time had begun, a time where blood bigotry was not accepted and blood traitors ran amuck but Draco assured her they were quite welcome at the ball that evening. Malfoy Inc. was doing very well again, many witches and wizards had gained jobs and the Malfoy name was starting to be spoken of in a more positive light. More positive than it perhaps ever had before, thanks to her son. He was shining brightly now. They had donated large sums of money to St. Mungo's, the Ministry, Hogwarts and various charities that had been started in order to help those who'd lost their homes or loved ones in the war. Draco was even talking of branching the company out into the muggle world, although Narcissa had a fair few reservations about this, it would truly show the world that Malfoy Inc. had changed. That the Malfoy family had changed.

She wore dress robes of deep burgundy and her hair was twisted into an elegant chignon, wearing only a delicate silver chain and her wedding ring she felt she was done. She didn't want to look overly ostentatious. She'd save that for a _purer_ affair. A knock at the door told her that her son was ready to escort her to the ball, he'd opted for taking his mother as his date; she needed to start getting mentioned in the papers again for all the good reasons, even if it were for nothing more meaningful than praise for the cut of her robe.

At the foot of the grand staircase stood her son; his hair was growing longer and it was an extremely pale blonde like Lucius'. He was tall and slender, his face pointed but filling out well with age. He no longer had that pinched look of a skinny youth, he was becoming handsome; he was becoming a man. He was dressed in silk black dress robes and wore the Malfoy ring that she was so used to seeing upon her husband's hand.

"Come along, mother, we'll be late."

0x

The Weasley household was buzzing with excitement and trepidation. You could almost hear the hum of pleasure and frivolity - could almost see it vibrating through the walls. It had been so long since any of them had gotten dressed up and sparkled in front of the Wizarding world. Molly, her stout frame swathed in a simple, classic lavender robe, observed her family rush around her. Everyone – Hermione and Harry included, of course – had decided they were going to prepare for the ball that evening at the Burrow. And they would all then arrive together, showing the world how they'd remained strong through everything, had burnt through all adversity and were whole again. She couldn't have been prouder of them all at that moment. Especially her George, who would probably never entirely return to his former glory, he seemed to her to be the bravest of them all. Losing a child had broken Molly but she understood her son had, quite literally, lost his other half. They had been the same egg, grown together in the womb, had been inseparable since birth. But here he was teasing his sister about her four inch heels and clapping Bill on the back in celebration of his impending fatherhood. She was so very proud of them all.

Her little girl looked so beautiful and so grown-up; Ginny's long crimson locks were hanging in loose, haphazard curls around her shoulders, her skin looked incandescent and her deep olive green dress cinched in at all of the flattering places. Tonight would be marvellous, tonight they would forget – even if just for a few hours – that many of their loved ones were absent.

Harry, wearing navy dress robes, stood beside Ginny trying to capture her in a conversation but she wasn't especially focused on talking to him as the flurry of activity from all of her siblings appeared to draw away her attention.

"I'm sorry, Harry, what were you saying?"

"Just that it'll be nice, in a way, to return to Hogwarts without the threat of Voldemort looming over my summer term for once!"

She laughed a little, "Yeah, I guess your school years were never exactly peaceful."

"_That's_ putting it mildly!"

Hermione dressed in pale pink and Ron in deep green joined the conversation. "Gosh, just think of all the extra time I'll have to really focus on my studies instead of researching obscure cures or spells or whatever else it was we did!"

Both Harry and Ron let out a loud snort and Ron said, "Yeah, well, I was more thinking we might get to relax a little more this year."

The brunette looked as though she'd swallowed tea dowsed with essence of bubotuber pus. "Ronald Weasley, this year you are taking your NEWTs, if you have time to relax then you're certainly in the running for receiving a streak of Ps and Ts!"

Ron rolled his eyes at her melodrama.

"That's it, you four" called Arthur Weasley, "you have an entire train journey tomorrow to discuss how you're going to spend the next year; right now we need to be going!"

0x

The ballroom was simple and elegant and staggeringly vast. There was a beautiful golden hue to the lighting, making the ambience very comfortable; it was neither too stark, nor too shaded. Trays hosting many delicate champagne flutes floated around of their own accord, drifting a little higher if they sensed anyone underage attempting to swipe one. Kingsley stood at the bottom of a wide, sweeping staircase, greeting everyone as they entered; beside him was his wife, Maya. She was a petite woman with skin the colour of milky coffee and tonight she wore bright turquoise dress robes and an expression of pure pride every time she glanced at her husband. When the Weasleys plus Harry and Hermione arrived many people were already dancing and chatting. The room seemed light and airy and full of tentative positivity.

"Molly! Arthur!" boomed, Kingsley, "wonderful to see you all again." He shook everyone's hand and gave George and manly half hug. After kissing Maya on the cheek and congratulating Kingsley thoroughly on his new position the brood moved along into the room. Molly and Arthur told their children to behave themselves and strode off to talk with some old school friends. Bill, Charlie and Fleur went to settle on the high stools at the bar area, the two men already drinking champagne while Fleur reluctantly ordered cranberry juice. Ginny, George, Harry, Ron and Hermione all grabbed a flute of champagne and edged towards the outskirts of the dance floor, not wanting to get caught up in someone's waltz.

Before long Ron had plucked up the courage to invite Hermione to dance and Ginny felt a slight tug somewhere in her to slake a nicotine craving. In her incredibly small, silvery purse she had managed to store her wand, a little money and two cigarettes. Excusing herself from Harry and George, she slipped out into the grounds. The moon was full and fat and it made her think of Remus Lupin. Strings of light were strewn over the gardens, giving everything a soft, erethral glow and couples were milling about, talking in hushed voices and muted giggles. She sighed and placed a cigarette in her mouth, lighting it with the tip of her wand. It was such a beautiful night, tragically beautiful. She looked down at her dress and smiled; she felt like a princess.

"That colour really does suit you, Weasley." A familiar voice cut through her haze, "can I have one of those?"

Draco Malfoy looked incredibly suave that night, although a little too like a young boy in his father's robes. He nearly fit them, yes, but the cut wasn't quite right. Not knowing quite why she fished the second of her cigarettes out of her bag and offered it to him, lighting it as she had done her own.

"Thank you. I didn't take you for a smoker, Weasley."

"And I didn't expect to ever see a Malfoy ask a Weasley for anything; surprises all round, I guess."

He smiled, gently. She was so prickly - still so tightly coiled and ready to spring into the defensive; she was entitled to that. Her kohl lined eyes and messily curled hair made her look almost wild and primitive. Her green dress and her outdoor setting only cemented this view of her in Draco's mind. She was a powerful, raw witch; he could feel it coming off of her in waves.

"Your family," he began, "they seem to be doing well for themselves."

"Materialistically, yes. Yours too, well..._you_ too. I hear Malfoy Inc. has been doing very well these past few weeks."

"That's a kind exaggeration. There's an awfully long way to go before we'll be doing well again but I'll do it, I will." His ambition and resolution was strong. He was staring off into the distance a little, almost as if he were picturing the long – and undoubtedly rocky – road which lay ahead.

"So, you really mean not to return to Hogwarts?" She wasn't sure why but she'd believed that when it came to it he'd have returned, would have graced the halls once more with his haughty air and arrogant smirk.

The brightness in his eyes faltered for a moment. "No. That place holds nothing for me now. Or rather, I hold nothing for that place anymore. I don't deserve to be a Hogwarts student again, Weasley, I know that."

She didn't respond because part of her agreed.

"Gin?" another voice came from the darkness. The footsteps drew closer.

"Harry?"

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

The exchanges were curt and disinterested.

"I just wondered where you'd got to, Gin; George's been stolen by Lee and Angelina and Ron hasn't let Hermione off the dance floor for a break yet. So, I thought I'd come find you..." Draco rolled his eyes, however this remained unseen by the-boy-who-lived, who appeared to be staring in earnest at Ginny. The redhead chuckled a little at the image of a rosy cheeked Hermione desperate for a drink and to rest her high heel clad feet but being unable to escape. Harry was feeling lonely, that's why he'd come to find her. He didn't like to be left to the mercy of people who would just clap him on the back and say 'well done' and 'thank you'. He just wanted to be with friends, with loved ones all the time. And that was okay, that was allowed.

"Is this you asking me to dance, Harry Potter?"

"Well – yeah...if you, if you fancied it."

She smiled, how could she say no? He still looked so fragile. Stubbing out the rest of her cigarette she smoothed her hand over her dress, fixing herself a little and began to walk away her arm intertwined with Harry's. Before she was out of the blonde's sight however she threw her beautiful face back and said, "Good luck..._Draco_." He watched her being steered back into the melee and took a last, long drag on his stolen cigarette. The air around him still smelt of her.

**Author's Note: **as you can tell this is going to be fragments of Ginny and Draco after wartime. I promise the next chapter contains a lot more Ginny/Draco. I really had no definite ideas about this fic, it literally is just happily ambling along writing itself. I'd love to hear opinions ect.

I'm searching for a beta for this fic, so please ignore any horrible mistakes at the moment!

Tasha x


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